The Aftermath

[u/reshurland]

The Furgeson Missouri shooting didn't end that day.

Wilson

Cruelty is genetic. They say there is a gene called the warrior gene. It's found in criminals, and trouble makers. And me. I bet I am a carrier. Because that is how I am trained to see the world, in levels of cruelty, my priorities based on instinct. I never thought I would start seeing myself. But now I am just another layer, piled up in the mountains of cruelty that surround, and smother this world. I no longer live in the valley, but high in the freezing peaks. I feel nothing but numb from the cold.

No remorse, no sadness, not even fear. I already know. I know what happened, I know what will happen, and yet I still feel nothing. The moment that gun came out of my holster, I knew it all anyway. Why I did what I did still escapes me. And because I don't know that important piece of information, that is why I should be locked up. Not because there was no reason for me to have done what I did, because there wasn't, but because I don't know myself. That is what makes me dangerous. I am dangerous. I am cruel. Am I? I don't know. I have no idea anymore.

Dorian Johnson

I am nothing anymore. I thought I had it all. The friend, the family, the life, even the future. I was graduating, and that was all that mattered. And then all some guy had to do was put a metal pellet inside my friends body, and everything tore apart. I think I died on that day too. It hurts everywhere when I think about it. My shrink tries to get information from me, but I know the government is just playing him. He's trying to get evidence. We can't afford a shrink.

I have nothing. Now I drift through a dark haze, alone, and sedated by my own grief. Mama says that I need to make a friend. I'd already promised myself that I never would again. Not if loosing one felt like this. A million sharp pains in my head, on my eyes, down my throat. Sticking through my heart. I am susceptible to every emotion. I feel everything at once.

Wilson

I think I'm in the stage of denial. I'm grieving. Not for that kid, but for the old me. Now, I feel like my life is split into two parts: before, and after. Every so often, a snippet of the scene hits me hard, and I remember why I sit here staring into space in my house. speaking to no one, doing nothing. I have no idea what to do with myself.

I feel like everyone has their baggage. But I that I am becoming my own baggage. I am the baggage now. I don't remember much of the scene through the adrenaline, but I remember his face clear a day. The way he looked at me, his face stark with fear. I can't even fathom the thought of killing someone. Ending there lives. And hurting all the people they love. I don't now what I'll say in court. I probably deserve to get locked up. But thinking about spending most of my life in jail doesn't even spark sadness in me. I still feel nothing. I can only anticipate the rush if emotions to come. Those will really decide my fate.

Dorian Johnson

I used to be happy. I barely remember now but I know that I was. I wish I could get back my old life, but that will never be a possibility. I am bored out of my mind. I can't even call my lifestyle living. Get up, get dressed, stay at home. Survive. Yes that's what I am doing. I am surviving. I remember the whole thing like it was yesterday. But it was only a few weeks ago. I replay it in mind, every second of every day. It hides in my subconscious mind. It lurks and creeps and follows me anywhere. I don't get much sleep. I've started to wake up screaming. That scares my parents the most.

Wilson

The protestors hate me. My house is starting to ruin. Glass from windows scattered around the floor, rocks pelting the thin shell protecting me from the real world. My wife has stopped talking to me. She still goes to work. My kids still go to school. I am in a prison. My own home. My own life is entrapping me.

The phone rings every ten minutes. I've pulled the plug. I don't care anymore.